This post has no name

After I posted last week, I instituted a new approach to help Kamden with his anxiety. I completely stole it from someone I follow on Instagram.  She's kind of famous and kind of like someone popular in high school (except that she seems like a very nice person) that I admire from afar. 

Anyway, it appears that they use a reward system to help fight anxiety. It got me to thinking. I was taking the approach that this was out of Kamden's control. What if we turned this around and taught him that he has some control over this?

This was after we made a decision, a hard one, to have him miss his best buddy's birthday party because it involved seeing the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. He knew it would haunt him at bedtime, the bad guys, the fighting, etc. It wasn't an easy decision but we thought if we could avoid adding to his anxiety, it was the right decision.

So what did he worry about that night instead? That his friend would be upset that he didn't come to the party. *facepalm*

(Exhibit A: found on my phone - goofball)

I may or many not have lost my s--t at that point. My conclusion was that he was going to worry no matter what. I mean, sometimes he is just anxious about being anxious, for goodness sake.  

That's it, we have to take the power away from the anxiety. He had to take control.  So what better way to have a kid take control than by providing a reward? We must use a language that speaks to them. That in itself is a sad state of affairs but that's another post. I may write it too....helicopter parenting is failing us. I work with the adults it creates. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

 

We are now over two weeks into the reward.  It's $5 a night. His anxiety always hits at bedtime complete with dizziness and a look on his face, not unlike the one below, no wait that his deadpan look, not quite the same.

He gets $5 for every night he can fight the anxiety and go to sleep without excessive worry.  The "worry" involves coming into our room after we have all gone to bed upset about the anxiety du jour - examples include but are not limited to:  he has a major health problem (the same night he ran for two hours straight at football practice....um no, you are fine), something will happen to Mom and Dad (we are good dude, no worries), scary noises in his room (house shifting, car doors outside etc), school (pick random worry and insert here) etc.... lather, rinse, repeat.

(we ran a 5 km race a bit back, at least we ran some of it)

It was something new every night. Oh yeah, then there was my epic parenting fail.  EPIC.  It's possible this entire anxiety thing could be blamed on me.

I shouldn't even write about it here. Maybe. Oh what the hell. It's sort of funny. In a I suck as a mom kind of way.

This summer, we lost Jay's dad.  It was sudden and it hit Kamden pretty hard. He hasn't dealt with death yet in his young life except when my cat died and my parents dog which I think we can all agree is not quite the same thing.

One day, he came down while I was working to relay something that happened that he couldn't figure out. He was putting the stuffed animals he sleeps with back into his bed before he made it one morning. He grabbed one, leaving the other at the end of the bed. When he turned back around to grab the last one, it was gone.

He found it in his hamper.

I had no explanation and so without thinking (me? speak without thinking?  So out of character for me) I said oh maybe Granddaddy was messing with you.

I mean, I watch Long Island Medium, it could totally happen, right? And it would so be something in character for Jay's dad. One of his favourite words was buffoonery after all. 

(Exhibit B - buffoonery defined)

So yeah. Not a good thing to tell a 10 year old boy, in case you were wondering. About a month later, he came to in tears me as I was falling asleep saying maybe it's Granddaddy making all the scary noises he hears when he's trying to fall asleep. That was my first clue about the epic parenting fail. Yes, I am slow on the uptake.

After much reassurance and the use of the word buffoonery several times, I convinced him that his granddaddy would NEVER try to scare him. EVER.

Mess with him to make him laugh, absolutely, but the noises are just the house, or possibly his overactive imagination or its paranormal activity that I am too old to hear or something.... Oops. I went too far again, didn't I?  Kidding, I didn't say the part about the paranormal activity.  This time.

The are several morals points  here:

- I didn't cause the anxiety with my fail (it was already gaining its own momentum) but I did exasperate it exponentially
- he does have control or at least some control because we are well over two weeks without a late night of excessive worry. He is always a bit apprehensive at bedtime but we each have to think of at least two good things that make us happy before I hug him goodnight. That gives him something else to focus on. Take that,  "worry".
- he takes some awesome pictures that make me smile daily. See Exhibit A through C:

(Exhibit C)

I might be married to a human giraffe.

Now that's something to worry about.

(I take his anxiety very seriously. I may have made up this system of dealing with it but it seems to be working for now. I am also saving for future therapy costs as Plan B.)

Right Where I am Supposed to Be

I started the post last week when I was having a moment of complete gratitude. Then then the weekend hit and my feeling got unhinged. Monday was, well, exactly as one would expect Monday to go. The complete opposite of the feeling the picture below creates.

 

Summer, you  let old man winter push you around again and only graced us with your glorious presence for a short time. We made the most it. Fantastic smiles from time spent with friends and cousins in the beautiful sunshine accompanied by too many hamburgers, hot dogs and s'mores.  Perfect.

 

The summer included birthdays, Jack is now a teenager though still not overly acting like one (*sign of the cross*) and Kamden is 10.  Time flies.

Kamden is trying his hand at tackle football this fall. He was pretty anxious, as was mom, but it's going really well.  

This picture cracks me up. His face. White pants to practice on a grassy, muddy field...so funny. Oh wait, no, that's a reminder to buy stock in a laundry stain removal company.

 

This boy of mine is a conundrum. So happy and easy going by day, by night, anxious and full of fear. That is the cause of my Monday blahs, this.

 

It's hard to watch him struggle.  In this, we are in new territory.  My arsenal of possible tools is quickly running dry.  We are in the process of seeking help but in what is typical of my style, I think, just one more day and we'll be through the worst.

It involves many peaks and valleys. All I want is my happy go lucky boy back.

Yesterday, if at all possible.

 

I am so very grateful that I am not doing this alone.  Also, what I wouldn't give to be back on that beach in Jamaica right at this moment. Oops, sorry, not being overly grateful, really, am I?

September has arrived with crisp mornings and falling leaves just in time for school. The boys were less than impressed with the arrival of the first day of school but have settled in nicely.

Grade 8 for this young man and grade 5 for his brother. As has become typical in the last couple of years, the first day of school photos have more outtakes than goodtakes but I kind of love it like that.

These two can make me laugh like no one else.

 

 

   

 

And that's what I will hold onto as we weather this minor storm because I am right where I am supposed to be.

My Valentines

I have three very important men in my life. This post is for them because I don't think it's possible to tell those that you love how important they are to you often enough.

My oldest son, the one who first made me a mother.

He's now 11 years old. Technically 11 and half. His teachers have always raved about his behaviour at school. He has been awarded student of the month every year since Kindergarten. This couldn't make his Dad and I more proud.

He is smart. He can do math in his head at a rate that surpasses my ability by about 100 times. He can also remember just about everything he has read and is full of interesting facts. He amazes me daily with this ability.

He is also very responsible and ensures he gets his school work done at school on time. Almost always. When he forgot last week, we couldn't even be upset. It was literally the first time ever. At home, he gets his chores done, almost always without complaining (he's not perfect after all) and helps out where he can.

He loves his brother fiercely. So fiercely that we have to sometimes remind him that Kamden is his own person and doesn't want to spend 24-7 with him. Their interests are diverging more and more as they grow and it's been hard to watch that struggle. They want to spend time together but agreeing on what they will do is not always easy.

I tell him I love him more than once a day and he always responds, "I love you too." I will never, ever, get tired of hearing that.

He is growing up pretty damn nicely despite my feelings of inadequacy as a mother. I am so lucky he is my son. He has taught me a lot and I have grown as a person because of him.

and then he went and did this on Valentine's Day:

This was after our family dinner out and the cards Jay pickted out for each of them.  He disappeared downstairs to my office and made this on the computer.

I cried.  Clearly we are doing something right.  Or despite what we are not doing right, he's turning out right.  Either way?  Score.

And then there is this guy. Who came along and showed us just how different two boys that come from the same gene pool could be.

He is easy going, silly, and loud. Case in point, the following video.

   
He specifically asked me to video him doing this and to post in on Facebook. How could I not?

He is all about soccer, football and mini sticks and would play any combination of them all day, everyday, if his brother had any interest in playing with him.

His antics have us laughing daily.  It's really hard not to love this kid.

He is also doing very well in school.  Math is his thing, he loves it and is very good at it.  He has also been awarded student of the month each year since Kindergarten.  Again, how could we be more proud?  It's one thing to have kids who do well in school.  It's quite another to have them recognized for their behaviour.  Now if they could save some of that behaviour for home, we'd be golden.

 I tell this guy I love him just as often as Jack but he only responds when he is very tired and forgets that the mushy stuff just isn't for him.  It's okay dude, I know you do.

And then there is Jay.  The one who walks beside me in this life.  This wonderful life we have the privilege of having together.

 

This summer, it will 20 years since we first met and became inseparable.  A little over half my life.  Thank you isn't adequate. 

 

He is my strength, my balance and ever present support.  I can only hope I am the same for him.

 

To borrow from one of our wedding songs (and his email to me this  morning):

 

I couldn't find another man

Who loves me like you do

I couldn't hold another hand

Who holds me quite like you do

Such a love was heaven-blessed

Couldn't find another man

Read more: JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT - COULDN'T FIND ANOTHER MAN LYRICS

 

Every day, I love him just a little bit more and cannot fathom how I got so damn lucky.

 

Happy Valentine's Day!  May each of you have love, hugs and a little chocolate today and every day of the year.

It's Not You, It's Me

It's been six years to the month since I started this here blog. Just a minute as I process that because where did the time go, exactly?

My boys were aged 5 and 2 years old respectively. Back then, I was doing some contract work from home very part time and spending my days doing preschool drop off, Kindermusik and gymnastics.

Much of that was discussed here in great detail. I love to read the posts about the kids because the stories you think you will remember, you so do not remember. We pick up the books I had made of the posts and we laugh, and laugh and laugh. Those were the days to use an overused because it's so true cliche.

I do not love to read the myopic posts (over share much?). I physically cringe because the stark raving need for attention is quite embarrassing. Though the self-depreciating humour does still crack me up from time to time.

Life has changed dramatically in those 6 years. The boys are school age and independent. They are off learning and building relationships with their peers at school. This does not make me sad in the least because....it is exactly how it is supposed to be.

Not surprisingly enough,I have also changed. I now have a job that is extremely rewarding and challenging that keeps me busy during school hours (let's hear for part time). It is fulfilling in a way that I actually never believed could be possible from a job. Of course, it is not all roses, I deal with people after all, but 90% of the time I really do enjoy what I do. Six years ago, I would have laughed at you if you told me I would one day have a job I loved.

Three years ago, I couldn't have fathomed not posting on here less than once a week. I craved the interaction. And to be quite honest, my ego quite liked the 20 plus comments I used to average on a post in the height of my blogging career (ha! I couldn't even type that without audibly snorting).

Lately I have been wondering why I no longer have the urge to spew drivel on here. I think this had a very integral part in my growth as a person. I have learned so much from expressing myself here and from reading so many different perspectives on the blogs of people who I consider friends.

For whatever reason, I just don't seem to be motivated any longer. I don't feel any guilt or pressure, this is my place and I have always felt it is for me to do with what I will.

It's not that I am quitting or shutting this down or even considering that. Mostly I am putting my thoughts down just like I always have.

I don't really know where this blog will go, if anywhere. I know that there are still friends who blog that I will continue to read because I would miss them otherwise. I also know that the stories that I wrote about the kids will be priceless to me always. I am also keenly aware that there is a point where it becomes a breach of my children's privacy to write about their lives here. We have reached that point for both boys for certain.

So here I am, enjoying life and continuing on the path that I believe I am supposed to be on. Stay tuned.

To Push or Not To Push

My Jack.

I love my Jack.

He is smart, with an almost photographic memory. He has a quick wit and a keen eye for detail.

He is also stubborn. His own worst critic. Set in his ways (he's 10, I know you think this is not possible however, anyone who knows Jack completely understands what I am talking about).

He is, in so many ways, like me, (except for that memory thing, that comes straight from his grandaddy).

He challenges me daily. I go from feeling like I know him and how to be the best mother to him, to feeling like I am failing him and not giving him what he needs.

He is a good kid. I know this.

His first reaction to being presented with the opportunity to try something new, is no, absolutely not.

I don't get this on any level. I understand this is how he is made, that he can't really change it about himself. However, I cannot relate. Me, who this year, at age 37, has waterskiied, speed skated and snowboarded - all for the first time in my life.

The thing is, when we force him to try new things (except food, a whole other post, trust me) he likes whatever it might be nine times out of ten.

So do we push him every time?

(I literally don't have the energy)

Or do we let him choose?

I don't have the answer. Nor do I expect that anyone else does. I will keep flying by the seat of my pants on a wing and a prayer and hope the therapy bills (his and mine) don't rob us of our retirement savings.

PS. before you judge me for putting this out there on the Internet, I just want to clarify that I have conversations with him all the time about this very issue. None of this is anything I wouldn't say to him. But if you must judge, go for it, turnabout is fair play.

I Worry

As my oldest son gets older, my worries have changed. I have no answers, only questions.

I thought as the kids got older, the worries would be easier (yes, I was delusional) but they certainly aren't. I can no longer control his behaviour (still delusional if I thinking I could ever control it). I can only give advice, even when unsolicited, and hope he makes the right decisions.

This learning curve is steep, I tell ya. And somehow I don't see it leveling off anytime soon.

Vodka anyone?

Down a Life, or Three

Our Saturday was typical. My parents were in town to watch Kamden play soccer the night before and left just after lunch.

It was a beautiful day and Jack and Kamden had energy to burn so I told them to go outside and play. Lord knows we get a handful of winter days where it's not so cold you lose appendages in minutes. It's a simple situation of enjoying them when you can. And by you, I mean them. Not me. Double standard? Damn straight.

Kamden took the bait. Jack, well he takes after me. Nothing short of a threat to his life will make him venture out.

I asked Kamden if he would walk down to the end of the street to get the mail. He said he couldn't do it by himself.

No worries said Jay, he will go along with him.

Kamden is ready before Jay and heads outside.

This is not big deal. He is 6 and half years old. He knows the rules. He stays in the yard, off the street, yadda yadda.

Jay gets dressed and I hear him say he can't find the mail key. I yell that it likely fell somewhere - it is small and constantly getting lost. He takes my keys which have a second mail key.

A few minutes later, as I am dusting the living room (annual event! there were balloons and everything!) I see Jay standing on the sidewalk looking perplexed. He mouths he can't find Kamden.

I run to the front door (side actually if you want to be technical) and open it. He can't find him. I throw on my coat and a pair of shoes (boots, flip flops? who knows by this point?) and run out.

We. can't. find. him. anywhere.

He is not in the front yard. He is not in the back yard. There was fresh snow but I could not see foot prints.

It may have been 2 minutes. It felt like 20 hours.

We run into the house and yell. We yell outside.

He is no where.

I am using my I am freaking right the hell out here and can't stop panicking voice (you should hear it, it's nothing short of awesome).

I check everywhere I can think of. So does Jay.

Finally Jay runs down the street. There is Kamden at the damn mailbox. Which, for the record we cannot see from our house because the street curves. Apparently we also very swift that it took us that long to clue in to look there. In our defense, he usually means what he says. He said he wasn't going so I presumed he didn't.

I am down at least three lives. And also, we now know where the mail key was. Detectives, we are not.

I know the terror that parents feel when the possibility that one of their children is gone forever feels. It was literally 2 minutes and I kept thinking, here it is, the moment that will forever change my life. The moment in time that will split my life into two parts. Before and after.

Yet despite that, fully expecting him to pop up at any moment. I have the privilege of knowing the relief of finding him. So many parents never know that relief.

To say I am grateful is an understatement.

Mental note, just because he says he isn't going to do something, doesn't mean he won't.

After he was found, he and Jay build a snowman. It was so warm he decided he had to pose in his T-shirt. And I let him. Wonders never cease.

Also, notice the level of the snow compared to the car. We have had a LOT of snow here in Saskabush.

God I love this kid. Plain and simply, I cannot imagine life without him.

Completely unrelated! Practicing his speech. He, apparently, has a lisp. I, personally, think it is part of his charm.

Jack was doing some homework on the computer while all this was going down. He started running around the house yelling for Kamden too.

Then after he says, he wasn't worried at all. Uh huh, sure buddy, whatever you say.

To state the obvious, I gave Kamden a little further instruction on telling us if he is going somewhere before he leaves. Explaining that Mommy gets a tad bit worried when I don't know where he is.

Mommy can only handle one heart failure a year. Max.

What Kind of Mother Are You?

I read this article some time last week when someone linked to it on Facebook about Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior or some such statement.

How could I not read that?

Go on, you know you want to read it.

At first I was horrified. I couldn't believe what I was reading. I could picture the scene at the piano, going over and over the same piece. The yelling. The belittling.

I felt sick that this woman was defending this type of parenting.

Then she made her point. Her daughter was so happy when she finally could play the piece. It was fun.

And I thought, huh, okay, maybe it is not so bad.

But.

Then I started considering some of the ideals she upheld. No TV. No video games. No point in doing something unless you are the best.

Hmmm. So no fun allowed then?

And what if you are pushing your child to be the best at something even though it is not something they would ever choose.

How does a child know what they want to do? This is highly influenced by their parents, I would argue. You can't tell me that girl cared a whit if she was that good at playing the piano. No, what she cared about was making her mother stop yelling.

I am simplifying it highly but my point is that perhaps that style of parenting creates adults who can play Carnegie Hall. So what?

What does that accomplish in the grand scheme of life?

Is that the most fulfilling thing that person will ever do?

I really and truly hope not.

My goal has, and always will be, to teach my children how to find that place in life where they are happy and fulfilled.

And my gut tells me forcing them to be the best piano player or soccer player will sabatoge that goal beyond belief.

So I choose to be less superior.

And I am okay with that. More than words can say.

So...

I was uploading some pictures to Flickr today and I found this one of my boys. I forget how little they once were.

Oh my word. The baldness. The cute glasses. The bruise under Kamden's left eye.

The memories! Yes, even the bruise brings back fond memories. Kamden is that kind of kid. Bruises were par for the course.

It is kind of unbelievable how quickly the time has gone. That was June 2006.

Now it is January 2011. Four and half years later.

You may have noticed I haven't been around to visit your blog as much lately. Or not.

I started working 80% full time last week. It is fun and challenging and scary all at the same time.

It is also making me reflect on how crazy lucky I have been and continue to be. I am still working from home for the same organization I have been doing contract work with for the last 5 plus years, just doing different things.

I would not trade these last 5 years for all the successful careers in China. Not that I am not successful in my career, I just took a really different non-focused on my career sort of path, if that makes any sense.

I was home for that brief blip in time when my two little men were small. That is a gift that I have and will never regret for a nanosecond.

The fact that it has now led to further opportunities has me wondering how I got so lucky.

And also making me laugh because basically my New Year's resolution for 2011 was to work more.

What the?

I Don't Remember

I don't remember when they stopped wearing Robeez and started wearing big kid shoes.

But I do remember their chubby toes that were, and still are, incredibly ticklish.

I don't remember when they stopped needing me to carry them everywhere and started walking on their own two feet.

(Photo by Details Photography Studio)

But I do remember their weight on my hip, their soft heads as I leaned in to plant a kiss on their silky hair.

I don't remember when they stopped wanting to read "Guess How Much I Love You" and started wanting Robert Munsch books.

But I do remember telling them that I loved them right up to the moon and back.

I don't remember when they stopped playing with Fisher Price toys and started playing superheroes.

But I do remember watching as they began to see each other as a playmate.

I don't remember when they stopped calling me Mama and started calling me Mommy.

But I do remember how it feels each and every time I hear that special title that will always be the most important one bestowed upon me: Mommy.

I don't remember every moment.

But I do remember the most important ones.

Drive the Line

I have been driving this road for over nine years now. I have been trying to stay in the middle lane, you know the one between "let your children run willy nilly" or "my children are free spirits, I let them be who they are" and the other side "my kids are not allowed to do anything fun as it might harm them, Godforbid".

Those descriptions might be a bit dramatic, even I will admit that.

The thing is, I find myself drifting to the left then over correcting and finding myself somewhere off to the right. I feel like an drunk driver and I don't like it.

Balance. It's what I strive for in most aspects of my life. I said strive, not achieve, just for the record.

One thing I try to limit is screen time. North America has an obesity problem that, in my opinion, is not helped by the fact that most of us sitting comatose in front of some form of electronic screen for too much of the day. I don't believe in not having a TV at all. I think deprivation can lead to rebellion. Rebellion is always a risk, I am not willing to up the ante on that one.

Another thing I try to limit is junk food and processed food. I know I feel like horse dung when I eat too much of it so by default it just can't be good for growing boys. However, again, deprivation is not the answer. So we have our treats and try to fill tup on decent food the rest of the time.

Sometimes there is too much TV time and too much junk food. I wish it went the otherway around but sadly, it rarely does.

Then there are the things that I cannot control. Things that I know people judge me on. Or maybe I just judge myself?

My kids are who they are. They are not outgoing. Have you met me? They are not antisocial either but they can come off as slightly rude because they are shy and uncomfortable around adults they don't know well. Frankly they can be shy around adults they know well. It is who they are. I cannot make them outgoing. I cannot change who they are.

I know this. Other people may not but I refuse to make excuses for my children. They do not have to be excused for who they are.

I got extremely off topic here. What was I saying again? Oh yeah, I am drifting between lanes trying not to crash the car.

Maybe I need a GPS?

What I love about my boys growing up

There are many things about this stage of motherhood that are easier. Not that it is easy, don't misquote me, just easier.

Jack is nine and Kamden is six. They both have little trouble communicating like regular boys, you know, boys who are like their dad, a man of few words. But their communication skills are sufficient to express their needs, wants and fantasy desires (some of those are interesting...no, you can't have yet another Bakugan toy just because you had to come with me to the store but nice try).

They play for hours together, using their imaginations. Sometimes I get bored because they so don't need my constant attention anymore. That lasts about ten seconds before I find something to occupy me....laundry, internet, cooking, cleaning. Right, who are we kidding, it's not usually cleaning.

All of this is fantastic and makes those years where it was the opposite of this but a distant good memory. I still remember how hard it was at times but with fondness because we are through the other side.

And because daily, I get about 25 of these

And these

And there really isn't anything better than having those arms wrap around my waist.

These are my boys and I love them more than words can say.

Abstractual

Kamden painted this flower pot for my Mother's Day gift at school.

(Click on the picture, it will take you to Flickr where I have added notes to point it out)

Upon further reflection, Jay pointed out something.
Do you see it?

Maybe kind of like me working away at a desk, you know, with my halo shining bright.

Abstract can look like something a 5 year old painted! (Kidding. Kind of.)

A Weekend of Celebrations

I had this post all ready to go last Friday, I was just waiting until the boys got home from school for a (not so) improptu photo shoot. However, when I sat down to post it later that night I found the sweet words that Jay had written instead. Am I lucky, or am I lucky? I thank God every day for bringing him to me.

May 7th, 2010 marked my 36th year here on Earth. It's been a ride full of joy, laughter, love and a few tears.

Every year is a blessing. This year, I am not hung up on the number in the sense of, oh my heavens I am getting old. Rather, I think being healthy and happy for 36 years is a gift that I must cherish. It could change in a heartbeat.

May 8th, 2010 marked 11 years of wedded bliss with my one and only. Another beautiful ride that I hope won't end for decades. Lots of them.

To Jay, walking beside you is where I am meant to be. It's been a privaledge to be your wife for the last 11 years. Thank you for so many things, more than I could ever put adequately into words.

May 9th, 2010 marked my 9th Mother's day as a mommy. To say that I am blessed to have the title "Mommy" or "Mom" as it is, in time bound to become, is an understatement.

And my Mom celebrated (we hope!) her 40th year as a mother. She has the grey hair to prove it. Naturally, I blame my brother for most of it but those three on her left temple are all my fault - age 16 - 20, need I say more?

Mom, thank you. You have been there for me, always. You have encouraged, supported, pushed, disciplined, and stepped back and let me fall when you felt it right. I am blessed to call you Mom.

There was much to celebrate. I am blessed beyond measure.

Finding Me Again

My last post sparked another post, funny how that works. It seems that some of you can relate to my ramblings about finding myself on the other side of the mommy trenches. In fact, someone asked how I have gone about that.

I don't really think I did it consciously.

I realized that couldn't be the mother of small children forever. I think we all to often don't visualize beyond the early years of motherhood when we dream of becoming a mother. Once that phase passes, we wonder what we are supposed to do with ourselves. We lose what has defined us for so long, dare I say, even before we actually became mothers.

I always knew I wanted to be a mother. I was 4 years old and pretending with my dolls. Of course, being me, I was realistic about it, fully thinking that the only thing that might stop me is not finding my one and only. At age 19 I did find him and he, too, wanted children. It was no longer if, it was when.

And then I blinked and my baby was starting kindergarten. I remember feeling a bit lost and torn about the approaching first day of school. My days as a stay at home mom to little boys were over.

I wallowed in that for a bit and then like I always do, I moved on. The truth is, yes, that part of my life is over but my life is no where near over. In fact, when I sit down and think about it for 5.2 seconds, it is full, full of blessings.

Family time with boys that no longer need their butts wiped but instead can have intelligent, funny and deep conversations with me. We can play the adult version of Monopoly. Easily. There is much less screaming and crying and more laughing and joking (I know, I should be over the crying part but it takes time, you know).

Now that Jack and Kamden are almost 9 and 6 (gasp!), I have much more time for me. I get the impression that some mothers consider me time incredibly selfish. I never have but perhaps that is because I am a bit on the selfish side. Or realistic. I prefer to think it is the latter. Without me time, I get grouchy, resentful and down right awful to live with. I have never believed in being resentful, instead I make things happen. I prioritize. I make me as important as laundry, cleaning and work afterall I am a many things, mother being one of them.

This is how I found me again.

I watched other moms who worked from home. I took a risk, tried it out and made it happen.

I watched other moms who were fit and active and I wanted it too, so I made it happen.

I watched others take amazing photos and post them on their blogs. I was inspired. I picked up my camera and played. It's become a hobby that I love. There is no pressure, only joy because I can pick it up and drop it as wish. My aspirations are only to capture the memories for me and my family.

I watched (and still do) other moms and people be good friends. I am still working on being a better friend, mother, wife, daughter and sister. It's a life long journey. But again, it won't happen unless I make it happen.

I have always been a big believer in the fact that I am in charge. I am captaining this here ship and it goes where I choose. Naturally there are storms and waves that rock the path but that just gives me different choices and opportunities. I have to roll with it.

I think that I began to find me again when Kamden was only a baby and I made the decision to work from home and it's been a process and a journey since. That decision and each decision I have made since has been made with my heart.

When I was a kid and the song by Whitney Houston, "The Greatest Love of All" was popular, I remember my mom saying to me that she wished someone had told her to love herself when she was a kid. I have never forgotten those words and have tried to live by them. My philosophy is that if I don't love something about myself then I change it. Granted this is easier said than done but I have come to learn that never trying is the biggest disservice I could ever do myself or my family.

I am, and always will be, so many things, one of which is Mommy to these two incredible beings.

A Moment of Complete Clarity

We were driving between Jay's parents and my parents this past Easter weekend bathed in the beautiful golden twilight of the sun on the Prairie backdrop.

I looked over at my husband and back at my two sons and breathed a sign of contentment.

At that moment, I realized that all was right in my world.

It is so easy to get hung up in the mundane details of life and forget the bigger picture. But at that moment, I was right where I was supposed to be.

I still am. There really is no greater gift and I promise not to take it for granted for a second.

Swinging

I remember it all very clearly. I was 27 years old and had just had my very first child. A son. He was beautiful. But I felt strange. Not me. Motherhood changed me, I thought. I am no longer the calm, worry free person I once was.

I had glimpses of that person but this new neurotic mother kept shoving her to the side (assertive bitch). For months.

Honestly, I didn't think much of it. Motherhood is supposed to change you. It's normal. I wasn't depressed. I wasn't have visions of horrid things. I was just different from before.

It didn't help that nothing went how it was supposed to. Breastfeeding was a nightmare (newsflash, that is actually how it usually goes, go figure). I took ages to heal from my C-section (not sleeping for 4 full days in the hospital probably didn't help but I am going out on a limb there). And to top everything off, Jack was not gaining weight as he was supposed to (he didn't read the "book". Isn't there, like a law or something).

Add all of that to whatever was going on with me and I was a diabolical mess. I probably had really high expectations. I had never really struggled with anything (you know besides social skills) therefore I would fall into motherhood with grace and ease (clearly I was delusional).

But I perserved, with copious amounts of love and support from Jay and family.

And somewhere in the three years between boys, I came back to me. The neurotic worrier had fled for higher ground (she hated the rotten eggs I kept throwing at her).

However, I fully expected to go wonky* again when our second son came along. I had the first time, why not the second time?

But I didn't. I birthed him the way nature intended and the nurse placed all 8 lbs 3 oz of him on my chest and I was me. Still me.

I didn't find myself swinging between the person I am and the one motherhood temporarily made me.

And that is where Jay gets down on his knees and praises the higher power with all that he is.

* I don't claim to have had Post Partum Depression, because if I did, it was the mildest form of it possible. I feel like a claim like that does a disservice to those who do have the unfortunate luck of experiencing it. My point is that I thought I was fine. Anyone who asked me how I was would have been told I was fine. Good actually. It really wasn't until Kamden was born and I looked back that I realized I wasn't fine. I have a theory that a scheduled C-section didn't allow my body and mind to prepare for the life changing experience of becoming a mother, however, it is, only a theory.